


The Man in the Mirror

by karrenia_rune



Category: Gargoyles
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s02e44 The Gathering Part 2, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Introspection, community: fic on demand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 10:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pretty much what it says on the tine. A look at both Owen aka Puck and Preston Vogel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man in the Mirror

Title: The Man in the Mirror  
Author: Karen  
Fandom: Gargoyles  
Recipient: Akilika  
Request Details: http://www.livejournal.com/community/fic_on_demand/439234.html  
Rating: General, possibly higher  
Characters: Owen Burnett and Preston Vogel, set shortly after the events in the  
two-part episode "The Gathering."

It's the first story featuring these particular characters,  
so I'm not entirely certain I got the pairing, but it's an interesting dynamic  
and I couldn't pass it up.

 

Gargoyles and all related characters and events are the creation of Greg Weisman and the property of Disney, not mine, in any respect.

"The Man in the Mirror" by Karen

 

Owen Burnett, it's his name and yet it is not. By itself nothing remarkable about it, other than having a nice ring to it, which is exactly why Puck chose it when entering the service of multi-billionaire David Xanatos. It suited his fickle and rather perverse nature quite nicely. In all his scheming and among his entire maneuvering and counter maneuver, over the millennia the Puck has enjoyed his observations of the mortal world and every so often, choosing to intervene and shape mortal live.

Witness his decision to get involved with Xanatos and his perennial enemies, the Gargoyles; it had been a challenge and an enjoyable worthwhile diversion.

He had made several miscalculations somewhere along the way. The Gathering had come and gone, and his plans had misfired.

Now garbed in flesh and blood as his alter ego Owen, wire-rimmed glass, sweater vest, pleated pants, and all, he is left holding the proverbial bag. "Like I told all of them, the Puck has played many roles over the millennia, but never that of straight man."

He stares across the expanse of the Eyrie Building's rooftop recently the scene of much destruction and battle over the life of one little boy; he is wise and experienced enough to realize is would never be that simple, but its comforting for the moment.  
Staring around the rooftop, the soles of his patented leather shoes crinkling among the scattered glass and metal shards, Owen recalls a phrase floating up from the depths of his memory. "I've lost a battle but not the war."

 

By his Lord Oberon's Decree, the Puck had been banished from Avalon, a hard blow but not a crippling one. He still had Xanatos' child to rear and train in magic, and he as his alter-ego, Owen, had not been dismissed from service.

 

Meanwhile, Preston Vogel stood at what was left of the control console of his employer's Alister Reynard's airship, contemplating and calculating how much of a financial loss this latest disaster would have on Cyberbiotics, not to mention the old man's physical well-being. He had cautioned Reynard before they had even set out to get involved in the madness that had consumed most of the city during the previous night and a half,

"You hate your son in law; your daughter steals from you, and you owe nothing to the Gargoyles, why help them now?"

Reynard had replied that while all of that previous statement was true, someone was after his grandchild, and blood was thicker than water." Family.

Preston Vogel is methodical, skeptical, and meticulous when it came to performing his duties, and he has never believed anything he has never seen and witnessed with his own eyes. The existence of the supernatural, for example, like the urban legend of real life gargoyles in the city of Manhattan, all true. So why not the existence of even older and more unpredictable supernatural creatures, like this Lord Oberon?

"What an eye-opener that had been. You're a skeptical man. That's what has kept you alive when others would have died."

Vogel looked up from contemplating the exposed cables, wires, and circuitry, only partially aware of the scurrying and low-pitched muttering of the technicians as they conversed and rushed to and fro; all of them working on getting the airship skyworthy.

 

Among the polished walls of the control room Vogel looks up and sees his reflection staring back at him. The widows peak of his black, thinning hair, the pinched face, and dark eyes. His is a face not remarkable in any way, the kind of face that gets lost in the crowd without even trying. He's been called boring, and perhaps that's the way he prefers it.

Its only a passing fancy, perhaps brought on by fatigue and stress, but Vogel imagines that another face is staring back at him from the polished metal walls, and it is not his reflection. He reaches up a hand and combs his fingers through the fringe of his black hair, stepping forward a few steps to be certain what he sees is really there or not.

The features are his, yet they aren't. The reflection has blood hair, and the tie is different, as is the jacket and the color of the image's eyes in the metal.

"You were less wooden than I had anticipated." The reflection muttered aloud.

"I'm hearing things," Vogel snapped and turned away from the metal wall. "I suspect this is merely a product of my imagination and fatigue, or Mr. Reynard's odd sense of humor, by placing spy-holes in the walls."

"You would prefer that to be the case, wouldn't you. Always the simple, logical, straight forward answer."


End file.
